Bad boy story: it was 1997, and I'd gone to a gay C&W bar called the "Timberline" in Seattle. Perhaps some of you knew it.
I'd taken a bus down from the suburb of Lynnwood, because I wouldn't drive when I knew I'd be drinking. Plus as a disabled veteran my fare was only $0.25 each way, cheaper than gas, and without a downtown parking hassle.
Only problem was I had to leave around midnight, sorta like Cinderella, or my pumpkin stopped running. So I raced out of the Timberline, having stayed a little too late and not having scored with a guy that night, to make the last bus to Lynnwood. And then I realized I had to pee really bad. I mean REALLY bad, not something I could hold for the additional 30+ minutes of the bus ride.
So I ducked down a Seattle side street, and found a recessed doorway of some commercial building. I pissed on the wall. Half-drunk, I really was no better than a homeless wino, and that's just how I felt. I wasn't caught, and made my bus ride a lot more relieved.
In the Army, of course, we peed out in the open all the time. And I remember in Arkansas once, in the early 80s, going with some civilians for a swimming party in a creek. And at one point several of the guys said they had to take a leak, and they just stood against some bushes on the bank in full view of the women a few feet away, their noisy streams clearly visible, as well as half of their bare butts. Nobody seemed concerned.
Yet try that elsewhere and you'll go to jail. Interesting, the contradictions in our customs & laws.